Someone I used to know died last night.

And on Facebook, someone else posted that their friend had also died. A friend they’d known since kindergarten. They’d recently reconnected, as they did from time to time.

Someone else messaged and said they’d also dealt with tragedy.

Why didn’t I still know this person? What else had I been doing when we stopped being the people we used to be?

But actually, how busy are you? 

Jan calls me a “human wrecking ball”; that I’m a workaholic and when I get myself into a zone, there’s barely anything that’ll hold me back from seeing through the goal, and getting it done. I zero in. And then I get busy.

Would I have seen this friend if I hadn’t been so busy? I’ll probably never know.

But death does that thing where you realize that each us of are set to one day shake these mortal coils. And when we do, what will we take with us? What will we be remembered for? What photos will they post? Who will speak, and what will they say?

Will they ask: why was she always so busy?

Good night, to my former friend. I imagine he’s enjoying time on the other side with that giant smile, that quick joke, and that pint.

Make time, before they become the people you used to know. Before you become someone they refer to as the one they simply remember.

— c ☆